The Darkest Descend
by BigDongsandProsper
Summary: Desperate to find away to spare his country from a revolution and the looming darkness, Theresa tells Logan of a Hero, not of their world. But once he summons her to Albion, little help is given when her main intent it to kill Reaver.


**Hi everyone! So I've been bored with school, which made me make this on a whim. It probably will fail...or maybe it will astonish all of us and become popular! Tah, silly me, it shall never be. But anyways, follow, favorite or review...or do whatever floats your boat and or tickles your pickle! Bye for now (:**

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><p>A vast length of night stood in front of them. The shadows bordered their boat, leading Logan's soldier into fatigue. But they continued to discover concealed energy as their eyes became fixed on a rifle lolling to his side. They knew their king well enough to never doubt he wouldn't fear killing them and their lack of efforts. So they rowed through, gliding on the tinted water like it was glass.<p>

When he cast his head up, his soldiers' heads descended down and rowed rigorously. A mere amount of joy aroused in him when he took regards of the foreboding. Logan had become fond of authority; though this was a pleasing reminder it was still there.

"Faster," he growled to his highest - rank soldier, lingering close to him.

"Sir, we are tired." Produced through a cough and a wheeze, the soldier trembled to his feet. His legs ached enough to make them go numb. "We cannot go any farther."

Gasping had blighted his voice that his words were unheard to Logan. Yet they were acknowledged by the sully figure situated on the rear of boat, making him stand as well.

No eye could witness what he was heaving through the air, until it created a rumble in their ears and diminutive spheres of light escaped. It consumed them to the point where they stayed motionless in their seats, until the soldiers detected their eyes moving towards their king.

He stood tall, towering over them and the high - rank soldier's dead body. Logan stridden to the side, where the soldier's blood, running like a stream, would not cling to his polished boots. And he did not even balk when the dark figure emerged, thrusting his pistol into its holster.

"I'm sure they retrieved their vigor now," he smirked.

"Is this the right way?" was all Logan inquired, overlooking the remark.

With a heavy sigh sealing the air, he responded, "Well, of course, your dear majesty. Do you really believe I would forget the path to a humble tower I visited fifty years ago?"

"I warn you, Reaver," Logan advised.

But his caveat was forgotten by Reaver, considering he did not care. He continued to Logan's side, viewing two of the soldier's lobbing the corpse into his cold grave called the sea.

"I say, your motive for sailing into the obscurity must be quite foremost," observed Reaver. "Especially if it means tolerating to watch your men die."

There was no way he could deny it. His traveling was for a purpose so large it would secure his country from a looming fate. "Yes…" The words faded through a spinning breeze. "It's more important than we'll ever know."

"Well then, obviously this journey was not dissipating of your time," he retorted. "Though mine."

Logan paced with Reaver's lifting glance, to where a tower stretched high and reached the few stars shimmering a path. They were greeted to its dimness and an uncertain vibe that coiled around it. Though Logan sensed himself altering into a perturbed state, he demanded to his soldiers to row and finally they reached the pier.

He was the first to reach the crumbling stones, with a diamond pattern engraved in it and Reaver followed.

"Which way?" he queried.

"There is a cullis gate ahead," said Reaver, focusing his attention to the front. "One of the last to exist. It shall led you to the chamber where the portal is. Yes, well I have done what you requested, so this is where I take my leave. Farewell!" He revolved around, striding to the boat, before his steps halted.

"I am not done yet with you, Reaver," Logan reminded.

Sighing compactly, he peered across his shoulder where Logan slipped into vision. "Very well. Let us be off."

They ambled down the narrow stones, each step with caution because of the collapsing stones and ruins surrounding them. At the end was a circular platform, with two tall pillars, one gradually descending, in the front of it and a brief set of stairs.

"Over here, your majesty," announced Reaver, strolling off into a wavering blue light and then vanishing.

Logan, who had now become the follower, rushed behind and teleported to the barren chamber, finding Reaver to be consumed with regards towards the center.

Four columns, each black and had rough pattern carved on them, were positioned on every corner of the room. And streaming from each of the four to the middle of the room were threads of blue lightening, trouncing the room's duskiness as they collided with each other, forming a sphere of lightening. It grew twice its size in only one second, blinding the two with its power.

Their heads crouched to the side, bowing away from the light moving towards them.

It flickered once, then again and soon the shine ceased, slowly at first, then beginning to pick up a more fleet pace.

Logan was the first to realize the sphere of light had taken its leave, making him the first to peer over his shoulder with great interest.

He expected to find more then he did while aiming his glance to the core of the room. He believed he would witness a solider, one not like his own, but one with eternal energy and vigor. Or something even more enhanced, akin to a beast that could conquer cities on his command. But a daze soon awoke in him, marring his beliefs. What he witnessed only conflicted with his assumption.

"Go down to the pier and get someone to carry her down." Logan's decree was applied smoothly to Reaver. The coolness of his eyes then faded into a new direction, one closest to the gate and off of what he thought would be the new savior to his country.

Sun rays pierced through the shaded windows onto the occupied bed, with Logan towering over it.

He had not slept, still fully animated from the events of last night and preparing for his new savior's awake as he watched over her. Yet she remained unconscious throughout the night's span, similar to when she had arrived.

Confusion was building him. He expected more...he needed more.

Slanting over the bed, his face lingering close to hers, Logan asked, "What are you?"

Deep set brown eyes begun to glare at him in seconds, piercing through him while her head roused from the pillow. She opened her mouth widely, not to reply, but simply to lodge her teeth deeply into his nose until he begun to bleed.

Faltering back, Logan hand sprung to his nose as he wailed in pain. The sting felt like someone had taken a sharpen razor and severed his nose off with it. With the blood painting his hand, he could not look anywhere but back to the bed, where she stood across from it, a sword quivering in her grasp. Its tip aimed at him.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Put the sword down," he advised, tending to his bite.

"I won't until you tell me why you brought me!" She begun to circular around the bed, gradually and with every move caution until she came closer to him. The blade never fell, but stayed on positioned towards him. "Tell me...Or do want to lose more then just your nose!"

He overlooked the threat, now feeling ill with the blood oozing out from him.

His voice was marred with the agony, as he stammered, "I am...I am Logan...King of -."

"I know who you are," she interrupted, now close enough for the sword's tip to touch his chest. "And you're not a king...you're a tyrant."

Wavering from being on the verge of fainting, Logan collided with the wall. He looked to his holster, believing through the haze he would find his sword secure in it, but now it was empty. His wound must have caught his attention that he had never realized she had seized his sword through the mist of his pain.

Defenseless, he spoke, uncertain what to do. "I have brought you hear, because I believe you will provide security within my country. I was told you...were of great importance."

"Aw, I'm flattered," she said, sarcastically. "But I'm sorry to disappoint you, Logan; I've seen your country before...and some of it's people and I have to tell you, I'd rather watch it all die than save it. Now let me go." Her tone was deep, cool and stern, similar to his, making her words pierce into his ears.

"I will return you to your home, if you help me," he bargained.

She scoffed, loudly and then went into a laugh. "You misunderstood. I want to go, leave your castle, not return to where you brought me from."

"You want to stay in my country?"

"Though it's quite awful...yes. I do like a little adventure. So, are you going to let me leave and spare your life, or am I going to have to kill you and then leave?"

"You are belligerent...much like a man I know already."

"If you are comparing me to who I think you are I should stab you now." Despite her words, the sword started to decline and a tranquil feel came over both of them. Their eyes met, fading into a locked gaze, while she asked, "What do you want with me?"

Logan winced and held his nose. "I was told by a seer, one my father knew long ago, that an evil looms in my country and in a year it will come. As well as a revolution has come. She said whoever comes through the portal would wield strength enough to defeat both."

"And that was me..." perceived the girl, trying to resist a smirk.

"Yes," responded Logan.

"If I do that, what do I get?"

"A way to return to your home. Or to stay...if you want."

The proposition pleased her for a moment, but lost it's power soon after.

Twirling the sword's blade, only to add fear into Logan, she stride closer. The sneer on her face deceived what she would say next. "I would love to fight for you...if it means I get to stay in your world, with of course a enough of gold to live by and this fine thing." The light from the sword reflected off of the sunlight and then she continued to speak. "I also don't want to see you again after I kill your sibling."

"How did you know..."

"That is was someone close to you who started a revolution? I just knew...I know a lot of things that will surprise you if I ever say them.

"But back to what I want. I want to be gone from you, but I also need something more difficult that you can give me."

He nodded for her to continue.

"There's someone I need dead, but I want to kill him myself. When I do that, I need you spare me of punishment..."

"Who is it?" he inquired, an interest finally in her words for him.

"A man...one who I hate with a passion." Her words were said in a scowl, while she sank down on the mattress, ignoring the Logan's blood stain. Freeing her hand of the sword, she reached it out towards him, a soft smile on her face. "But he ruins the mood. Naidya."

"What?" he said.

"My name...it's Naidya. But you may spare your introduction, I know who you are," she repeated. As Logan abstained the head shake, her hand fell to her side, her smile fading.

"You are a seer, that is why she chose you," he retorted.

"Sure, you may call me that. It doesn't matter, either way. What matters is I kill someone I truly hate, right after I kill those against you and save your country, because apparently you can't do that yourself. And then we depart each other, go are separate ways." Naidya's appearance betrayed others into believing she was delicate and ineffective to any quest that involved slaying. Never did Logan perceive those deep brown set eyes and translucent face had a thirst for killing in them.

Yet, it didn't matter to him now.

Her personality divulged a small amount of fear, truly any other emotion than bitterness and fear. He needed that to prosper. And it was why he left his hand out towards her, requesting a hand shake to commence their deal. As she took it, delight bloomed in him. Perhaps she would be useful.


End file.
